


best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand

by heartsinsync



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Smut, In which Lydia is stubborn as hell and Stiles admires from afar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2181429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsinsync/pseuds/heartsinsync
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thoroughly un-supernatural AU, in which Scott is the most popular boy in school, Erica is the most popular girl, and Lydia is the class genius who steers clear of any entanglements with the in-crowd. At least, that is, until she befriends gorgeous newcomer Allison Argent, and finds herself forced more and more into the company of one Stiles Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little nervous about this but kind of excited as well. It's taken me so long to plan and post it but I'm very glad I finally got around to doing so! And I'm pretty determined to finish it, so please let me know how you like this first chapter. The feedback is always the perfect encouragement I need to keep writing.
> 
> Title is from the lovely song 'Lost Stars', performed by Keira Knightley in the film Begin Again.

The new girl in school was absolutely beautiful.

Of course, Lydia hadn’t noticed this about her at first; she’d only vaguely registered a tall someone with dark waves of hair and a shy smile awkwardly hovering at the front of the class that Tuesday morning. She’d been mentally prepping for her calculus test next period, cursing herself for her lack of recall regarding integration using Euler’s formula, and had had little thought to devote to much else. So it was only later that day, bumping into Allison Argent by their neighbouring lockers, that Lydia finally glimpsed the clear, almost translucent skin and wide doe eyes, fringed by the longest lashes she’d ever seen.

Naturally, she kept her face averted as she rummaged through her locker, attempting to locate her Physics textbook. It wasn’t that she was being rude. But there wasn’t any point in making friendly overtures to a girl who was clearly days, hell, _hours_ away from taking her rightful place amongst the uppermost ranks of the Beacon Hills elite. Lydia had seen it happen with newcomers before, having lived her entire schooling life in Beacon Hills. With a face like that, it was inevitable.

So she was surprised when Allison spoke first.

“Hey, um… you’re Lydia, right? I think we had Biology together this morning?”

She turned to the other girl, her eyebrows raised. (At the time, she only remembered feeling mildly impressed that Allison had remembered her name, but Allison would later joke that the intimidation factor of Lydia’s ‘welcoming stare’ could rival that of her mother’s and Aunt Kate’s, combined).

“Yeah, hi. Allison, right?”

Allison nodded, her face brightening with a smile.

“Sorry, I hate to do the whole awkward new girl thing, but could you possibly tell me where this next class is?”

Lydia took the proffered timetable from Allison and consulted the piece of paper. “You’ve got Physics with me, actually. I’m heading there now so I can show you the way, if you like?”

“Great!” Allison enthused. “Thanks so much.”

Allison got more than her fair share of curious (and intrigued) glances as they made their way down the hallway together, and by association, so did Lydia. People were bound to be surprised, Lydia reflected as she and Allison small-talked their way through various light topics before entering the Physics classroom. It wasn’t that Lydia was a social pariah or anything; she had a few good friends from her AP classes and extracurricular activities. But she was far from being a likely candidate for the unofficial Beacon Hills High School welcoming committee, so it was no wonder people were expressing an unusual amount of interest.

During their walk, Lydia found out that Allison had just moved to Beacon Hills with her parents due to her father being offered a new job there. She was an only child, her favourite subject was History, and she’d been a skilled archer since the age of nine.

Allison seemed lovely, or so Lydia gauged from their short conversation. Undeniably sweet and eager to make friends at her new school, she was also thoughtful and clearly very smart, displaying the kind of steady and down-to-earth disposition that greatly appealed to Lydia, who was surprised to find herself warming so quickly to the new girl. It only made it all the more annoying that Allison was bound to be snatched away by Queen Bee Erica and her gaggle of girlfriends.

 

* * *

 

After the class, Lydia didn’t see Allison again until lunchtime the next day. Sure enough, she was already sitting with the school’s most popular juniors and seniors, chatting merrily away to Erica, Malia and Kira while Scott, Isaac, Stiles and a bunch of the other boys discussed their next lacrosse game. At least, that was what it looked like to Lydia – she’d seen them at it before, if their outlandish arm gestures and raised voices were anything to go by.

Scott, while firmly engaged in the lacrosse debate with the boys, was still managing to sneak side glances at Allison every time he thought no one else was looking. Lydia couldn’t quite hide an amused smile as she glimpsed them from her vantage point in the lunch line. She could’ve guessed things would turn out this way; Scott McCall was probably the nicest of those boys, and he and Allison would undoubtedly make a good match.

That was the end of it, or so Lydia thought. Allison was where she was belonged and all was right with the world. So she was more than a little shocked when she received a light tap on the shoulder as she was collecting her lunch, and turned around to see Allison beaming at her.

“Hey Lydia! There you are, I haven’t seen you all day. Do you want to come and have lunch with us?”

It was so friendly, so straightforward – so _not_ the kind of thing people did at Beacon Hills. There was a social hierarchy in place, even if no-one liked to admit it, and within it the Ericas and Allisons of the world did not go out of their way to talk to the Lydias. It wasn’t as if the popular students had ever been particularly rude to her; they just didn’t run in the same circles, it was as simple as that, and had always been that way.

Lydia honestly didn’t have an issue with it. To her, high school was simply a waiting room of sorts that preceded her early acceptance into one (or more likely, all) of her top five Ivies. But even now, Lydia could feel the cagey stares of other students being directed their way in light of this unusual occurrence. Allison, on the other hand, seemed to take no notice of this whatsoever.

“Hey, Allison – um, thanks, but I’ve got to finish this essay for English actually, so I’m just gonna head out and eat on the way.”

Allison’s smile faded very slightly. “Well, you still can sit with us for a bit, right? Like ten minutes or so?” She raised her eyebrows hopefully.

Lydia chanced a glance over at the table in question. The girls there seemed vaguely mystified by Allison’s disappearance but, shrugging at each other, kept on chatting. The boys had noticed nothing – someone had produced a diagram of the lacrosse field from somewhere, and they were more engrossed than ever arguing over various tactics.

Everyone, that was, except Stiles.

He’d clearly been watching her interaction with Allison from the beginning. When she looked across the room and caught his gaze, he grinned, eyes warm with good humour.

Lydia flushed. Was he laughing at her?

She ducked her head immediately, then wished she hadn’t. Who even cared what Stiles Stilinski thought? She made an effort to return back to Allison, who was still waiting on her reply.

“I’d like to, but I really should get this essay done. I’m really sorry?”

It came out sounding forced and brittle, but Allison nodded as if she understood completely, a small smile on her face.

“Okay, fair enough. Next time though!”

Lydia nodded hurriedly, already preparing to depart the room at high speed. As she left, however, she couldn’t help looking back in time to see Allison joining the table again, already laughing at something one of the boys had said. But Stiles’s head was still turned in Lydia’s direction, and once again, she met his gaze. She couldn’t quite make out his expression this time – although if she didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed it was disappointment.

 _Get a grip, Martin_. Mentally scolding herself, Lydia resolutely turned her head away as she passed through the lunchroom doors.

She was being ridiculous. Back to focusing on more important things – like that dreaded English essay.

 

* * *

 

If Lydia thought Allison’s initial attempt to bring her into the fold of her new friends was a one-off, she was wrong. Very, very wrong.

It kept happening. At this point, Allison had been at Beacon Hills for over a month and their friendship had quickly grown. Lydia’s impressions of Allison had been correct; she was as clever as she was kind, but she also had a steely inner strength and wicked sense of humour that few people would have suspected her of possessing. Lydia had to give her new friend props – she definitely knew how to use that doe-eyed innocent smile to her advantage. It was one of the things she liked most about Allison; Lydia herself knew a lot about having to keep up certain facades.

The two spent a fair amount of time together, both during school and in the weekends, and Allison had so far managed the odd balancing act that was being friends with Lydia Martin while still remaining a core member of Erica and Scott’s wolf pack. But if there was one thing she was continually persistent about, it was trying to bridge the gap between the two.

“Come on, Lydia!” she pleaded now, looping her arm through Lydia’s as they strolled through Bloomingdale’s. It was a Saturday morning, and they’d decided to meet for a breakfast date before hitting the mall. “They’re actually really nice. I know you’ve never hung out with them before, but you should definitely come to the party. It’ll be fun! And Erica _told_ me to invite you.”

Lydia shrugged uncomfortably, her shoulder bumping against Allison’s. She hated saying no to her – it made her feel like a bitch – but she really had no desire to hang out with Erica. Or Scott, or – anyone else, really.

“I don’t know, Allison. I just think it’d be really awkward.”

Allison rolled her eyes, barely suppressing an exasperated sigh.

“Lydia. It’s just one little party. Please come? For me?” She batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner, a huge grin on her face.

Allison was stubborn and Lydia was out of excuses, so she tried a different tactic: distraction. “What’s the point? I mean, you’ll be glued to Scott’s side the whole night anyway, won’t you?”

It worked like a charm. Allison blushed, right on cue, then tried to pretend she hadn’t. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in a would-be casual voice, running her finger along a row of cream-coloured dresses.

Lydia tried, and failed, to hide her amusement. “So things are going well, I take it?

Allison shot her a look that told her she knew exactly what Lydia was trying to do, but it didn’t stop a half-sheepish, half-pleased smile from emerging anyway.

“Really well, actually,” she said, warmth creeping into her voice. “But you know, we’re taking it slow. Although he did meet my dad the other night and I think that if anything were to scare him off, that would be it.”

Lydia, who was flipping through hangers of silky blouses, paused to raise an eyebrow. “He met your dad?”

“Yeah, well, he was over at my house.” In response to Lydia’s speculative grin, Allison hurried to add, “We were just studying!”

Lydia snorted. “Just studying is never _just_ studying."

Allison smiled slightly in agreement but then ducked her head, coming over suddenly shy. “It's funny, because I told myself when I moved here that I wouldn’t get too involved – that I wouldn’t, you know, get into anything serious with a boy. But then I met Scott, and he’s just... different. I don’t know, I can’t explain it.”

There was a short pause, and Allison tried to shake off her confession with an embarrassed laugh. Lydia, understanding that her new friend wasn’t the type to share such personal information with just anyone, felt rather pleased that Allison trusted her enough to tell her such things.

She looped her arm back through Allison’s, nudging her in a friendly manner. “Well, I can,” she said brightly, as the two kept making their way through endless rows of skirts and dresses. “It’s your brain flooding with phenylethylamine.”

Her response had the intended effect of breaking the ice. Allison burst out laughing. “Okay, just how smart are you?!”

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly, smirking a little at the same time. However, her good humour faded very slightly when Allison, her giggles having subsided, ventured to ask another question, her voice filled with unmistakable curiosity.

“So… there’s really no-one you’re interested in at school?”

Stiles’s smile from the lunchroom the other day flashed very briefly through Lydia’s mind, but she quickly shoved that thought down deep before it could fully form.

“Nope,” she answered offhandedly, rifling through the racks and pulling out a blue dress that she thought Allison might like. “I mean, I had a massive crush on Jackson a couple years ago, but then I found out he’s kind of a jerk. So.”

Allison nodded thoughtfully in agreement. Lydia was mentally congratulating herself on a job well done distracting her friend, when Allison startled her by diving past her and yanking a dark green dress from seemingly out of nowhere.

“Okay, this would actually look perfect on you. And I may have gotten a bit off track there, but I haven’t forgotten my mission.” She gave Lydia a meaningful look as she began shepherding her towards the fitting rooms.

“No more excuses, Lydia Martin. I’m bringing you to this party tonight, whether you like it or not!”

Lydia sighed as she allowed herself to be dragged off by her taller, and clearly stronger, friend. She’d always thought she was unusually stubborn, but she clearly had nothing on Allison Argent.

 _It’s just one night_ , she consoled herself. _I can handle one night, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be patient lovely readers, the smut is coming. I repeat: the smut IS coming.
> 
> As you can tell, I've taken my liberties with canonical bits and bobs and played around with them to suit the story. So there's a whole host of characters from across the different seasons that'll poke their heads in in the next chapter, cause sometimes I think about things like what it would've been like if Erica had gotten to meet Malia and Kira and I get very very sad. Hence why I've made them BFFs in this fic.
> 
> Please, please, please review - I appreciate the feedback more than I can say and it really does help to motivate me to write more, and faster!
> 
> Next time: THE PARTY. Lydia properly meets the BHHS in-crowd, and has an interesting encounter with one of them in particular. Wonder who that might be?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo you may have noticed this fic has changed from a three-shot into a ?-shot. That's because a) I have a tendency to ramble and embellish when I write, and b) I haven't actually decided how I want the last act of this fic to go. So please bear with me. I'm thinking that now it'll end up being around 4 or 5 chapters but we'll see!
> 
> I've kind of taken Beacon Hills into my own hands in this chapter and made up a bunch of stuff to fit in with this alternate universe. JUST GO WITH IT. But let me know if there are any glaring errors or if something really doesn't make sense. Also, I'm from New Zealand/Australia, so apologies if some of the American-isms (lingo, etc.) are woefully wrong.
> 
> Happy reading!

“Stop fussing,” Allison said, sounding half-amused, half-annoyed. “You look gorgeous.”

Lydia shot her friend a dark look from under her curtain of curls. She and Allison were in Allison’s bedroom prepping for the dreaded party, and Allison was wielding her curling tongs on Lydia’s auburn locks like a pro. While Lydia knew the basics of hair maintenance and make-up, she’d told Allison that she never usually bothered to make much of an effort for school, hence why Allison had decided to take the reins tonight on primping duties.

“I’m not fussing,” Lydia answered defensively. Allison said nothing, simply gave her a mildly incredulous look in the mirror. Lydia scowled in response, then sighed.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous,” she muttered irritably. It was always hard – near impossible, really – for Lydia to admit when she was in the wrong or feeling vulnerable, but she found that with Allison, it wasn’t as much of a struggle as it usually was.

“Are you surprised, though? I’ve known most of these people since elementary school, and I’ve barely spoken a word to any of them. And now I’m just randomly gate-crashing their private party.”

Allison rolled her eyes affectionately. “You’re not gate-crashing. I told you that Erica asked me to invite you, remember?”

Lydia, watching Allison gently untangling two of her curls in the mirror, looked unimpressed. “I seriously doubt that Erica Reyes would have asked you, out of the blue, to specifically invite _me_ to one of infamous A-List parties. More likely, you asked if you could bring a friend and Erica agreed because she still wants to get into your good books.”

Allison’s answering expression was one of faint embarrassment, which meant that Lydia was completely right, but she quickly shrugged it off with an apologetic grin.

“Okay, okay, you caught me. But you know, I really did want you to come and it means a lot to me that you are. And I still think that if you gave these guys a chance, you’d really like them… at least, some of them.”

Once again, Lydia found herself grudgingly admiring her new friend’s tactics of persuasion. Subtle guilt trip, check. Heartfelt admission of platonic love and gratitude, check. Sly jab at Lydia’s ability to be objective and open-minded (which she always prided herself on), check.

Silently resolving to be less of a spoilsport (it _was_ just one party, after all, and Allison was clearly making a huge effort to accommodate her), Lydia straightened her shoulders and shot her friend a smile in the mirror.

“God, the things I do for you, Argent,” she sighed in an overly dramatic and long-suffering manner.

Allison, clearly relieved Lydia wasn’t genuinely upset at her, beamed back at her. “Well, I’m very appreciative, Martin.”

She fluffed up the last of Lydia’s curls, then turned off her curling tongs and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “All done! You can have a look in the big mirror now.”

As instructed, Lydia got off her seat and stepped before the full-length mirror, Allison hovering in the background like a proud mother hen.

What struck Lydia the most, staring her reflection in the glass, was how much she looked like herself and yet _not_ like herself. It sounded nonsensical, and yet the thought rang true. Lydia was clear-eyed and realistic about her looks, as she was about almost everything else; she knew she was passably pretty when she made an effort, but that was the thing. She usually never cared enough to try.

The girl gazing back at her in the mirror was a revelation. With her curls perfectly coiffed and her mouth a splash of bright colour, she looked glossy and aloof, like an alternate universe Lydia Martin – one who wore cute clothes and three-inch heels and liked accessorising her wide green eyes and flawless complexion with eyeliner and mascara and blush. One who boys and girls alike would be intimidated to approach, would be endlessly awed and intrigued by.

Lydia smiled at her reflection and the girl smiled back, beautiful and untouchable. She decided that she didn’t really mind the change, at least temporarily. It would be fun to play at being this Lydia Martin for a night.

She turned back to Allison, who looked stunning in the fitted blue dress that Lydia had picked out for her at Bloomingdale’s, and grinned. “Ready, partner?”

Allison grinned back and nodded, picking her clutch up off the bed and leading the way out the door.

“Dad!” she hollered down the stairs. “Time to go now!”

 

* * *

 

The party was in full swing by the time Allison and Lydia arrived, on the fashionable side of late. Lydia wasn’t sure exactly what she expected to see as she followed Allison through the front door. Wall-to-wall people in a sweaty gyrating mess? Rowdy keg stands in the living room? Her peers already passed out on the floor?

If so, she was pleasantly surprised. Certainly, everyone was drinking – there were red Solo cups as far as the eye could see, and a couple of beer pong games were in fierce session in the backyard. And there were rather a lot of teenagers sprawled across the house, and not just from Beacon Hills High School either; some were students from their neighbouring schools, Stanton Prep and the Gatton Academy. But it was all rather civilised, considering. Beyonce’s throaty vocals were pumping through the speakers, a bunch of highly excitable girls had already claimed the makeshift dance floor, and Erica (resplendent in a red dress that hugged her every curve) and her girlfriends were holding court in the dining room.

Allison, having spotted this also, held out her hand. “Ready to face the music?” she said, raising a playful eyebrow. While she seemed outwardly at ease, Lydia knew Allison well enough by now to know that her friend was a little nervous too. She clearly wanted Lydia to get along with her other friends, and even if Lydia didn’t have a clue why it was so important to her, she cared enough about Allison to at least try.

She rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on her new green dress, then on second thought, tossed her hair back and lifted her chin, holding her head high. Allison’s smile widened. “Of course,” Lydia said loftily, taking Allison’s hand and following her to the dining room.

A group of people Lydia didn’t recognise were playing a drinking game that seemed to involve flying cards, slapping hands and a lot of hysterical laughter at one end of the table, but Erica was seated at the other end, having what looked like a intense gossip session with Malia and Kira. She leapt up when she saw the two girls approaching, her blonde curls bouncing as she leaned forward to hug Allison. “You made it!”

Her gaze shifted to Lydia, and to her credit (or so Lydia thought cynically), she didn’t bat an eyelash in surprise. “Hi Lydia, glad you could make it too.”

Her ruby red lips were twisted up into a shrewd smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. Lydia decided that she’d take what she could get, and smiled back. “Hey, Erica. Thanks for having me.”

Malia and Kira chimed in their hellos, both also greeting Lydia with apparent friendliness. The three girls updated Allison and Lydia on the events of the party so far – apparently, Jackson had already been put to bed in the spare room after turning up to the party rip-roaring drunk, and Danny had been showing off his hot new squeeze, some intimidatingly good-looking college student called Derek, all night. Lydia had settled in just enough to feel cautiously comfortable with her surroundings, when Malia and Kira were called forth to take their turn at one of the beer pong tables, and Allison decided she’d head off in search of some drinks for her and Lydia.

“I can come with you, if you like,” Lydia said in a pointed voice that made it quite clear the second half of her sentence was just a formality. But Allison gave her a meaningful look and shook her head.

“That’s okay, I’ll be back in a second. You guys chat away!” And with that, she darted off into the crowd and disappeared.

Lydia turned reluctantly back, already anticipating an awkward silence, but to her surprise, Erica launched into fresh conversation straight away.

“So you and Allison have become pretty close, huh?” she asked, rather rhetorically. “That’s… cute.”

There was a pause, during which Lydia frowned at the other girl. Was Erica patronising her? It sounded a whole lot like it. “Is it?” she replied coolly. “I’m not really sure what’s so ‘cute’ about it, but okay.”

“Well, it’s just interesting,” Erica said, her lips still quirked in that insincere smile. Lydia idly wondered how Erica managed to look so evilly seductive all the time – perhaps she practiced regularly in the mirror? It honestly wouldn’t be that surprising. “Seems like she just wants us all to be best buds, right?” Her tone made it quite clear exactly what she thought of that idea.

Lydia didn’t know what Erica was getting at, nor did she particularly care, but it was obvious the other girl was gearing up for some passive-aggressive show of bitchiness. She was reminded once again of exactly why she avoided high school cliques and the accompanying drama as much as possible; it was always tiresome and utterly dull. Now, Lydia leveled a glare at the other girl that was more exasperated than truly annoyed.

“Are we seriously doing this?” she asked, her voice matching Erica’s faux sweetness but with a clear steely undercurrent. “Erica, sweetheart.” She saw the other girl’s eyebrows shoot up derisively in response to the sarcastic endearment. “I’ve known you for like eight years. I saw you puke your guts out after going on the carnival carousel in fifth grade, I tutored you for weeks after you failed that Algebra test twice, and I know how much you were freaking out over the stupid dramatic monologue you had perform for English last year. So can you just, I don’t know, refrain from pulling this Regina George bullshit right now? Cause it's kind of pathetic.”

The words were out before Lydia even really knew what she was saying, but she didn’t regret them. Just because she was making an effort for Allison, certainly didn’t mean that she was going to let Erica Reyes walk all over her in her spiky platform heels. She half-expected the other girl to throw her out of the house, or at least to utter some catty remark intended to put Lydia in her place once and for all.

What she didn’t expect was for the pregnant pause that followed her spiel to be punctuated by Erica bursting into laughter. Laughter that sounded suspiciously genuine.

“Well, well,” Erica finally said, when she’d recovered from her bout of amusement. “Looks like the teacher’s pet has claws.” Her eyes were glinting, and her head had a rather calculated tilt to it, as if she was assessing Lydia for the first time.

Lydia rolled her eyes. She wished Allison would get her ass back here before she ended up doing something she really would regret – like smacking Erica upside the head with her clutch purse. “I’m not the teacher’s pet, I’m actually just _smart_ ,” she pointed out, with a touch of asperity. “There’s a difference.”

“If you say so,” Erica replied, still smirking away but looking less aggressive than before. Lydia got the impression that she’d managed to pass some kind of bizarre social test she hadn’t even known she was taking.

“Whatever,” she muttered, turning away slightly. She was greeted by the very welcome sight of Allison weaving back through the crowds towards them, clutching two Solo cups full of punch with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey guys,” she said happily, as she took her seat again. “What’d I miss?”

Erica simply gave Allison an enigmatic smile before engaging her in a new topic of conversation. Meanwhile, Lydia had grabbed one of the cups from her friend’s hand and downed three gulps of punch in one go, effectively preventing herself from saying anything in response.

Judging by the way things had progressed so far, if she was going to survive this party, she was going to need alcohol. A _lot_ of alcohol.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Lydia was drunk.

 _Not hideously drunk_ , she reflected as she leaned against the kitchen island, waiting in the short and unofficial line for the punch bowl. It was her turn to fill up hers and Allison’s cups. _But quite drunk. Happy drunk. Kind of silly drunk, actually–_

“Whoa, whoa, are you okay?”

The voice belonged to someone with great biceps, or so Lydia noted as she grabbed onto them for support. She’d just slipped in some spilled punch on the tiled floor and had almost decked herself on the island, but luckily whoever this guy was had been in the right place at the right time to stop her from making a complete fool of herself. She looked up to see a handsome face framed by spiky light brown hair, grinning at her.

“Thanks,” she gasped, releasing her death grip on his arms. “Sorry, I’m not even that drunk – I mean, I just had a clumsy moment.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling. “It’s fine, happens to the best of us. I don’t think I’ve met you before, by the way – I’m Aiden.” He held out his hand.

She was amused by his formality, and solemnly held out her own hand to shake it. “Hi, I’m Lydia. You don’t go to Beacon Hills, do you?”

He shook his head. They’d reached the front of the punch bowl queue at this point, and he took her cups and filled them up before doing the same with his. “Nope, I’m at Stanton. I’ve played lacrosse with a few of the guys here who know Danny and Jackson so tagged along tonight for the party. You must be friends with Erica and her crew, right?”

Lydia made a noncommittal noise. “Uh – I wouldn’t say friends, exactly. Or at all, actually.” The alcohol seemed to be compelling her to be more frank than she would normally be with a complete stranger.

Aiden quirked his lips in a smile. “Oh yeah? Just gate-crashed then?”

Lydia, recalling that she’d said the exact same thing to Allison earlier that night, giggled and looked up at him from under her lashes. “Something like that.”

_Am I flirting? Shit, I think I’m flirting.  
_

Aiden certainly seemed to think so, if the way he lowered his gaze and leaned closer was any indication. “Well, I’m pretty glad you–”

“Lydia! There you are.”

Swivelling her head automatically in response to her name, Lydia caught sight of Stiles Stilinski, making his way towards her through the thick throng of party-goers with a bright smile fixed on his face.

“Um, hey, Stiles,” she said slowly, feeling utterly lost. Why was he greeting her like they were long-lost friends when they barely knew each other? She shot him a look that was equal parts confusion and annoyance, but he responded only by widening his smile and stepping closer to her – so much so that she was pretty much trapped in a Stiles-and-Aiden sandwich.

 _Which might not be such a bad thing, under different circumstances_ , she speculated vaguely, before telling her brain to shut up and forcing herself to return to the present and the weird macho death stare competition that was happening right in front of her.

“Hey Aiden, how's it going man?” Stiles was saying in a voice that appeared outwardly cheerful and relaxed, but to Lydia seemed to contain an oddly assertive edge. “Heard the lacrosse season’s been great.”

“Killer,” Aiden agreed, his smile more smirk-like now than anything. “We’ve smashed every game. It’s shaping up to be an amazing season. Though I suppose,” and now his voice took on a decidedly mocking tone that Lydia, who’d caught on quickly and was now rather bored of these caveman antics, found irritating, “we’ve yet to face the famous new Beacon Hills lacrosse team. I heard Liam Dunbar’s a great little player, isn’t he?”

Stiles was clearly annoyed by the admittedly patronising comment, but Lydia, watching him casually laugh it off, was rather impressed by how well he hid it. His acting abilities were almost good enough to rival hers. “You’ll just have to wait and see during our match. But Allison’s been asking for Lydia for the last half hour, so we should probably go. Catch you later, buddy.”

Aiden looked like he wanted to argue, but it was too late – Stiles was already taking Lydia’s hand and leading her off, and Lydia, caught off guard, let him. Her fingers automatically curled around his warm palm, and when he turned back to shoot her a small grin, her stomach dropped a little, the way it always did when she’d just done a loop-the-loop on the rollercoaster at the annual Beacon Hills Carnival. It felt pleasurable and dangerous at the same time.

_Oh God, this isn't a good sign._

“What was that?” Lydia asked accusingly. Her tone was harsher than the situation really called for, possibly to compensate for the odd sensation in her stomach that she wasn’t sure she could blame entirely on the punch.

“Huh? What was what?” Stiles’s hand was still wrapped firmly around hers, pulling her through the crowd. Once they’d put some space between themselves and Aiden, Lydia wrenched her fingers out of his grasp, ignoring the slight pang that went through her at the loss of contact.

“Don’t play dumb,” she said pointedly, standing her ground and ignoring the noise and commotion around them. “You just interrupted a perfectly good conversation.”

When Stiles realised Lydia wasn’t going anywhere, he stopped as well, turning to face her with a slight frown on his face. “I seriously doubt ‘conversation’ was what he had in mind,” he said darkly.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “That’s why you yanked me away like a wayward toddler? You’re kidding, right?”

“Look, I know that guy, okay? Just because he’s got bulging Hulk-like arms and a jaw the size of the Titanic doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to hook up with him. He’s a complete asshole, to girls and to guys and to the human civilization in general.” Stiles scowled, while Lydia had to fight the sudden urge to burst into giggles. Aiden’s jaw really _had_ been ridiculously huge.

“And why would I be kidding? You look like… well, you look like that!” He waved his arm in her general vicinity, nearly concussing a couple who were squeezing past them. Lydia, feeling her laughter dying out in her throat, narrowed her eyes.

“Like _what_?” Her voice held a knife-sharp edge, something Stiles clearly registered, if the way his features froze in surprise was any indication.

“Like...” he floundered, looking around them as if the right answer was going to swoop out of nowhere and save him. “Like, you know. Stunning.” The last word came out sounding slightly mumbled.

Lydia blinked. She’d thought Stiles meant to say something along the lines of “slutty”, because her new green dress was admittedly a far cry from her everyday school attire. The sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps showed off rather more of her neck and chest than she was used to displaying, and the nipped-in waist and flared skirt apparently emphasized her hips and legs “to their best advantage,” at least according to Allison.

So from any other boy, the compliment would’ve sounded overwhelmingly corny and completely insincere. But from Stiles… well. He looked like he actually meant it. There was a very faint flush rising along his cheekbones, but he was looking directly at her, his eyes dark and serious.

Something inside Lydia clenched slightly, and she had to force herself to hold his gaze, even though she wanted more than anything to break the suddenly intense connection and look away. She felt shivery, though the combined body heat of everyone around them meant that the room was more than warm.

“Well, in any case,” she finally managed to say, her throat dry. “It was really none of your business.” Her resolve strengthened, and she lifted her chin defiantly. “And I don’t need to be rescued, thank you very much.”

Stiles’s lips twitched; he looked like he was hiding a smile. “Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “I know.”

There seemed to be hidden intent in everything Stiles was saying, and Lydia honestly wasn’t patient (or sober) enough to try and decipher his confusing behaviour towards her now. They’d barely interacted in the ten or so years that they’d known each other, and while she may or may not have wished it were otherwise in more recent times, she’d always known it was a ridiculous notion. He was Stiles Stilinski after all, resident class clown, girl magnet, and best friend to the school’s beloved class president and lacrosse captain. While there were certainly better looking guys at Beacon Hills High School, Stiles’s obvious wit and cleverness, combined with his hilarious brand of sarcasm and the leanly muscled body he’d acquired post-puberty, meant that he was never in need of female companionship.

The in-crowd was famously incestuous, after all. Erica was currently in the middle of some love triangle situation with Boyd and Isaac; Scott had dated Kira for over a year, breaking up a few months before Allison arrived; and Stiles had hooked up with both Erica and Malia multiple times in the past, if the rumours were to be believed.

So Lydia thought it was unspeakably strange that he was loitering around here talking to her when he could obviously be hooking up with one (or probably both) of the pretty sophomore girls eyeing him up in the corner. She settled for shooting him a puzzled and suspicious look.

“You’re acting really weird, Stilinski,” she declared, brushing past him to get back to Allison and the rest of the group.

He chuckled, turning to follow close behind her, and when he next spoke, his breath on her neck sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. 

“Nah, this is just I’m like, actually,” he remarked in a quietly amused voice, as they returned to the dining room to find Erica and Allison, as well as a bunch of their other friends, grouped around the dining room table. It looked like the earlier drinking game been disbanded. “You’ll see.”

Lydia sent him a frown. What was that supposed to mean? But before she could respond, Allison let out a squeal and pounced on her, dragging Lydia into the seat next to her.

“There you are! You’ve been gone for ages!”

“Yeah sorry, I went to get some more… um.” Too late, Lydia realised she’d left their two cups of punch behind with Aiden. She’d been so distracted by Stiles’s appearance at the time that she hadn’t even realised until now. _Damn him and his stupid archaic savior complex._ “Sorry Allison, I totally forgot our cups,” she apologised, feeling like an idiot.

“That’s okay, we’ve got plenty here! And you guys are back just in time to start our new drinking game.”

It looked like they’d been playing kings cup. There were cards sprawled in a messy circle across the table, and Isaac seemed to be the unfortunate player who'd drawn the last king; he was gulping down an enormous mug of some questionably murky-coloured alcoholic mixture with an expression of exaggerated distaste, while Scott and Boyd howled with laughter beside him. Stiles, sliding into the spot beside Scott and grinning at his friends’ antics, was now sitting directly across the table from Lydia.

_Stop. Looking. At. Him._

She forced herself to turn back towards Allison, who had quite clearly been indulging in the punch while Lydia had been away. Her eyes were soft and blurry-looking, her smile sweetly vacant.

Lydia fought the urge to laugh. She’d only seen Allison drunk a few times, but every time she always ended up nuzzling people like an affectionate kitten, and this time looked to be no exception. “What are we playing?”

It was Erica who answered her question. “Truth or dare.”

Predictably, the boys groaned while the girls tittered, yet Lydia was amused to note that none of the boys made any move to leave. Erica shot her a meaningful smirk, which Lydia took to mean that Erica was predictably going to dare her to do something outrageous and/or embarrassing.

Lydia sniffed. Did Erica really think she was going to back down that easily? She raised her eyebrows and met the blonde girl’s challenging stare with a defiant smile of her own.

If Erica thought Lydia Martin was that much of a pushover, she had another think coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been difficult adapting Stiles's and Lydia's characters into this AU while still keeping the essence of their canonical personalities, but I've tried my best to do just that while adding some necessary ~layers~ to fit into their backstory here. Hope that comes across somewhat.
> 
> I know I promised you smut and I'm sorry it wasn't in this chapter; I ended up having to split it into two because it just got way too long. But don't worry, there'll definitely be antics of some sort in the next one!
> 
> Reviews are absolute LOVE <333


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